Chapter Text
Travis sat quietly in the unfamiliar kitchen, tapping his fingers together as three other teen boys watch him like hawks. Well, Larry looked more like a vulture circling an animal carcass, Todd was indifferent, and Sally Face was, as always, difficult to pinpoint.
A grown woman exits out of one of the rooms adjacent to the kitchen, carrying a small first aid kit. She was wearing sweatpants and a large shirt; definitely a man’s, though Travis recoils a bit at the thought of her owning something of the sort while being unmarried.
“Boys,” she says in a motherly tone, “give him some space.”
Larry narrows his eyes at Travis for the thousandth time since he had arrived at these godforsaken apartments. Simultaneously, all three step two feet back, leaving room for the woman to sit down at the table.
She sets the med kit carefully on the table, unlatching it, then popping the lid off as slowly as possible. Travis gulps at the sight of alcohol wipes and gauze: it doesn’t hurt that bad, he can still leave, still get out before his father realizes he’s missing.
He can feel the tears at the back of his eyes, nose stinging. His body is threatening to break down at any second.
Suddenly, Sal clears his throat. “Larry, let’s go to your room. We need to talk...privately.”
Even after the year or so of knowing him, Travis is still shocked by his voice at times. It’s a constant low, smooth sound. Diplomatic, with just a hint of his life in Jersey slipping through when he got upset. Which was rarely.
Travis shivers.
The taller boy didn’t move from where he was, but when Sal grabs both him and Todd by the arm and drags them towards a door, they follow without struggle. The door shuts behind them, and suddenly Travis is alone with a strange woman, in a strange building, in a strange basement.
She pauses, listening for noises in the other room. After a few seconds, she turns and stares Travis directly in the eye. He flinches away.
“Now, Sweety, I don’t expect you to tell me who beat you this bad, because I already have my own theories, but I want you to know that you will always be welcomed here if you need to get away. And I think you’re better off staying here for the night.” She reaches a hand out to him, but Travis jerks, his wooden chair making a horrible noise as it drags along the tile.
“Thank you, ma’am, but that won’t be needed.” His voice is barely a whisper. He’s not stupid enough to be disrespectful to a woman, a mother; Larry’s mother at that.
“Call me Lisa.” She smiles warmly. “And I don’t think you’ll be the one making that decision, sadly.”
“What…what do you mean, ma’am?”
“I believe that Sal would rather lose his other eye than let you walk out that door.” Lisa takes a deep breath. “You may be stubborn, but my boys are more so.”
“...oh.”
She grabs a small bottle from the med kit, the label is worn and stained.
“At least let me help clean you up before you face them.” It sounds like an order rather than a suggestion. Travis simply nods, looking down at his scuffed shoes.
Lisa stands, grabbing a frozen bag of peas from the freezer before handing it to Travis. He looks at her incredulously. She points to his eye, the one that’s surrounded in a purple bruise. He places it gently on his skin. It’s stings, fuck it stings.
She also wets a cloth, and dabs it at the dried blood around his busted lip and nose. While doing so, Lisa gently cups his cheek, pushing a chunk of poorly bleached and sweaty hair out of his eyes.
That’s when Travis starts crying.
The tears are hot, burning as they roll over his cuts and his pride. Lisa sighs, wiping some away gently with her thumb. He cries silently: he has ever since he was little. He heaves a little, pressing the icy peas into his eye in some sad attempt to stop.
“It’ll end up alright…” Lisa whispers to him like a frightened dog. “Always does in the end.”
That hurts even more than the lip that his dad punched open, because he doesn’t know if it’s true or not. When he hears the door to Larry’s room creak just slightly, he jumps. The tears stop instantly. Travis rubs the excess away with his sweater sleeve. Lisa gets the hint, backing away.
It’s Todd, with Larry and Sally Face following close behind.
“Goodnight, Ms. Johnson,” he says, a lisp prevalent in his voice. “It’s getting late, I need to be home.”
“Of course. Always a pleasure to have you, Todd.” The ginger simply nods, exiting through the front door, leaving the other two to stand awkwardly by the couch.
Through the eye-holes in his prosthetic, Sal looks on curiously. Larry seems to have loosen up a bit, but still suspicious.
Sal comes over and sits at the table, in the farthest chair possible from Travis. Lisa continues tending to his wounds, placing bandages and cleaning carefully.
“You’re staying here, tonight.” Sal says.
“No I—“
“You’d be stupid to go back home after this.” Larry asserts.
Sally Face nods in agreement. “I’d suggest staying with me, but my dad is…aware of your existence. Gizmo doesn’t seem to like the idea of you much, either.”
Gizmo? Gizmo?!
Larry shifts uncomfortably. “So you’ll stay with me for the night. Is that okay with you, mom?” His voice is like a plea for her disapproval.
But instead Lisa nods. “There’s enough room on Larry’s couch for the both of you, but you can sleep out here if you feel the need.”
Travis is speechless. How and why are they doing such a thing for him? After how many times he’d insulted Larry, punched Sally Face, called them both the worst things he could think of... why?
He makes a mental note to pray for them when he gets home.
“A-Alright.” It’s all he can muster. His voice scratched.
Lisa packs up the med kit after covering a cut on his cheek. He gets the sick feeling that this will be a long night.